


A New Life

by Deonara2012



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deonara2012/pseuds/Deonara2012
Summary: The world ended. Far from home, Mingi has to figure out what to do with his life.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Whole New World





	A New Life

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt Negotiations.

Mingi became aware first of the hard road under his cheek, and then the voice talking to him. He tried to remember what had happened, and could only think of something about water, and needing to get away, and just… stopping here because he couldn't go any further. He breathed in dust, nothing too abnormal, and remembered he lay on a road. He didn't recognize the voice talking to him, or the language, not at first. 

"Hey. Are you okay?"

He understood that. Not because the man spoke Korean, no, but because he'd heard it so much in the last… since the explosions. He didn't know even how long ago that had been. Slowly, he sat up, pushing his too-long dark hair out of his face. The colors at the ends, faded red and green almost bleached out, mocked him now, reminding him of what and who he'd been, and who he missed insanely on a day to day basis. "I'm… not sure," he finally stammered, wrenching his attention back to the man instead of his past. He'd worked so hard to get rid of his lisp and it came out now because that didn't matter.

"You're blocking the road."

That took more work to figure out, and he stared up at the dust-covered farmer - right, a farmer? - standing in front of him with more patience than he deserved, working it out. When he understood, he tried to get to his feet, found it impossible, and took a breath. "I'm sorry," he said, and sort of crab-walked over to the side, marked by dead grass and less comfortable than the dirt of the road. 

The man looked at him, brow furrowed. "What's your name?"

He thought about that - he knew that question, too. "Song," he said finally. Mingi... that person, that name really wasn't necessary anymore, was it? He could just be this random person named Song and it would be okay. Why not?

"You need help?"

He thought about that, too. "Is there work I can do to help you, too?" he asked finally, not at all sure he'd even gotten the words right. He'd had HongJoong.... His breath caught and he wrenched his thoughts away from that still open and oozing wound. The end of the world had come, and he'd survived. Of all of them, he deserved it the least.

The man watched him, his expression the same. "You're not from around here."

Song snorted softly. "No," he said. "I'm not. But I know how to work." And he would, and it'd be good.

"I was heading into town to find someone to work for me," the man said. "How good are you at negotiations?"

Song looked at him, still trying to get his brain to work. "I'm...slow," he said. "In talking. Not in working."

The man nodded and sat down next to him. It took some doing, without a dictionary, but eventually, they worked out something they both liked. James, he'd said his name was, got to his feet and offered a hand to Song. Song reached for it, and James pulled his hand back. "You steal from me, you won't work around here again," he said, slowly and clearly.

Song nodded. "I understand," he said, and took the offered hand to get to his feet.

It turned into a good life, really. For two weeks, he worked at an unfamiliar job, something he'd never done, never expected to do, and he wondered, looking at his hands, nails chipped, palms callused and blistered from doing things he'd never thought he'd do, what would happen if he ever came face to face with someone who'd known him before. At least the hair was gone, the colors from the old dye job finally out of his face. He could live with that, and he did, happy to have the reminder gone.

Dust on the road brought all the work to a halt, and then James smiled and clapped Song on the shoulder. "Runner's in," he said. "I think it's Sam, if that dust is anything to go by. We picked him up the same way we got you. You and your weird names. He wouldn't say where he was from either."

Song blinked at him, and then went back to work, struggling with the harness on the plow, his fingers still unfamiliar with the buckles and everything else. The horse, thankfully, stood patiently, tail flicking flies away lazily. 

He'd finally managed the last buckle when he heard a familiar voice - speaking English, so achingly familiar - and he froze, horse half out of the traces and nosing him in irritation, letting him know he wanted food. Now, please.

Numbly, Song walked the horse into the barn, turned him loose into his stall, and checked on food and water for him before going back out and trying to figure out - remember - what he was supposed to do next. Two weeks was long enough for him to get the idea, but it was still new enough that he had to think, had to go through the checklist, which right now was a mess in his mind because he knew, he knew....

"Song?" San's voice said quietly behind him, and Mingi buried his face in his hands. "You didn't tell them your name?"

He turned around and smiled wryly at his friend, group mate, only other living member of the best thing that had ever happened to him. "I figured it was time to let Mingi die," he said, and then San reached up and wiped the tears from his face, and the two hugged, sobbing together, relieved to have found a friend and mourning the loss of the rest of the group that had brought them together.

Later, he'd ask how San had survived the loss of WooYoung and Yeosang, he'd explain how he'd survived losing Yunho, but now, they just hugged and celebrated the fact that they had each other.


End file.
